Who?
by commandergraff
Summary: America is still undecided, and after an incident, she finds herself more lost than ever. Betrayal, heartbreak, tears and joy. Who is the One? Continues from The Elite.
1. Chapter 1

Aspen's green eyes found me in the dark, and a reassuring smile danced on his lips. He was slouched across the arm of a plush couch, looking regal in his stark white guard uniform. I clambered across the worn out furniture pieces on the ground, useless old fragments of once luxurious furnishings, and stumbled into his outstretched arms. Sighing, he strokes my hair in soft, rhythmic gestures, content to have me close. This was a rare moment, and one that could only happen in a storage room.

My eyes flickered up to his satisfied face, and he looked down at me with those gentle eyes, sparkling like emeralds. It was then that I realized there were tears in them, brimming to the edges, and his body quivered. I had never once seen Aspen behave like this, and it scared me. Aspen was always strong, funny, and loving; he had never let his vulnerable side show. I suddenly felt an overwhelming guilt at what I had done to him over the past weeks – ever since I had been in the Selection.

Craning my neck up to his head, I brushed the droplets aside and pressed my lips on to his, willing him to feel better. His hand held my head firmly, and he kissed me passionately, not stopping for any breaths. In this kiss I felt his anger and despair, all mixed into one kiss that conveyed certain desperation. Finally, I had to come up for breath, and while doing so, his lips trailed down my neck and up again, repeating the same pattern. Never once did his grip ever loosen, and even then my body was pressed snugly into his, leaving me no room to turn away.

"What's wrong, Aspen?" I questioned, letting out my concern.

"I got a call today," he started, "J-Jemmy, he..."

"What happened to him?" I pressed on. Jemmy was Aspen's beloved younger brother, and his love and dedication for him was almost overwhelming. The only time America had seen Aspen cry was when Jemmy got whipped on the back for stealing fruit.

"The scars on his back got so inflamed it triggered an infection, and now the doctors can't save him, and mother doesn't know what to do."

"What will happen to him?"

"The-There are swells, and he has a high fever, and he can't last, America. He can't. He's so tiny, how can he?

"Shhh... Aspen, shhhh," I reassured, "It will work out."

"How can it?! They won't let me leave the palace because of the recent rebel attacks, and I can't return to see Jemmy either! What can I do?"

With no more reassuring words, I kissed him again, this time stronger than before, hoping to alleviate his pain. His hands trailed to my tailbone, and with a single flip, I lay on the couch, him above me. My fingers were knotted in his dark hair, and our legs were jumbled together, a mess of limbs. I could taste the salt of his tears as my lips caressed his cheek, and I felt tears of my own coming too. Jemmy was such a sweet young boy. Aspen started to unzip the back of my dress, and I caught his hand, sitting up abruptly.

"No, we can't," I firmly stated. "Not here, not in the palace."

"You love him, don't you?" Aspen blankly asked.

"I don't know, Aspen. I love _you_, but everything Maxon has done for me. I can't repay."

"America, please, this is so painful."

"I'm sorry about Jemmy, and I'm sad too b-"

My unfinished words were cut off suddenly, and I found Aspen's tender lips on mine again. I couldn't resist; I just couldn't. It was if a certain force compelled me to him, and our kisses got deeper. Soon we were in our original position, with half my dress unzipped, and my red hair splayed over the seat.

Then, the lights came on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Many of you have been asking if I'm Maxerica or Asperica. Wait and see ;) **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter and ***warning: there's an offensive term in this*****

* * *

><p>Startled, my eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden light, and I bolted up, twisting my torso towards the door. Standing by the light switch, in all her full glory, was Celeste Newsome. Her face was contorted with the utmost shock, but also a tinge of smugness under her heavily made-up face. Here she was, her tight red dress accentuating the curvature of her body, and her blood red lips forming a gleeful smile.<p>

Lifting her pale arm up, and beckoning towards the door, she called out in a honeyed voice, "Maxon, sweetie, look what we've got here!"

Never once did her eyes leave our pressed together bodies, and we made no attempt to disengage ourselves, paralysed with fear of what was to come. The thud of Maxon's leather shoes resonated in our ears with each nearing step, and Aspen protectively placed a hand on my waist.

"What is it, Celeste?" Maxon's weary voice travelled from the halls, "That's just a storage room."

Then, I saw the toe of Maxon's polished shoes step in, and I focussed on that tiny glimmer, looking down at the curve that shone in the light. The shoes halted in motion, and I glanced up at the man in the handsome suit. I wished I hadn't looked up, for what I saw broke my heart to pieces.

On his usually kind face hung a blank look, one that channeled a look of hopeless despair and betrayal, and it felt like someone punched me in the gut. This boy that trusted me and gave me all I wanted, how could I do this to him? It wasn't fair to him, and it also wasn't fair to Aspen either; it was my entire fault. I was the one who broke hearts and was undecided, unfaithful, unfeeling. I was a two timer; deceiving one boy and the next, and I deserved to have my heart broken. I couldn't blame Maxon for kissing other girls; I couldn't blame him for flirting and enjoying the company of the other Elite. Wasn't I doing the very same; except on a much grander scale?

"Oh my, what a _bitch,_" Celeste's piercing voice cracked the silence, "Just like your dear friend Marlee, aren't you? Birds of a feather flock together."

Looking to Maxon, I realized he wasn't going to defend me anymore. Whatever trust we had had was broken, down goes our friendship and love, and he was never going to forgive me. My gaze landed on Celeste, and even though my eyes were brimming with tears, I gave her the fiercest stare I could muster at the moment. If I was going to be punished, I might as well inflict harm on Celeste. That could just be added on to my list of wrongdoings, and I could be whipped or executed or whatever Maxon's hatred will drive him to do.

Scrambling up from my unnatural position on the couch, with my dress half unzipped, I straggled to Celeste, slapping her right across her caked face and making sure my nails scratched as my hand made contact. I was suddenly grateful for growing my nails out. This was payback for what she has done to Anna, and Marlee, and me, and probably many other girls.

She clutched at her right cheek, making pitiful noises, and cried, "Maxon! Look what this adulteress did to me! It hurts, Maxon, darling help! Get the guards to put this adulterous pair in jail; execute them!"

But Maxon did not heed her words, which gave me little satisfaction for he still hasn't made a move. His eyes were fixed intently on Aspen, and he had an unreadable expression on his face; one of realization and anger. By this time, Celeste was full scale shedding crocodile tears, and I stumbled out the room, unable to take the tension anymore. Running as fast as I could, I raced up stairs on unsteady legs, and fell into my room.

Draped on the floor of my room, I burst out in silent tears, drenching the carpet. My maids hurried in immediately, aghast at the state I was in, and proceeded to place me on m bed.

"My lady, what happened?!" a flabbergasted Mary inquired.

I continued bawling, ignoring their concerned questions, and soon they gave up. What would happen to me now? Would I be executed or whipped or tortured? What will happen t- _Aspen_! Being so engrossed with my own fate, I had forgotten about Aspen, who was sure to receive greater punishment than I would. He had his family to be concerned about, and another struck of grief stabbed me, why was I constantly causing harm?

After lying on my soaked sheets and watching the sun rise above the horizon, my maids bustled in, preparing to work their magic on my splotched face. My face was blotchy, and my eyes were swollen and red, my cheeks still stained with tears. No matter how much magic they had, my maids were certainly not able to make me presentable. They shared an uncertain glance, and Anne shook her head slightly.

"Don't bother fixing me up," I sniffed, "I'll stay in my room the entire day."

And who knows what will happen to me now? Anything could happen at any minute.

Lucy whispered, "Do you want us to stay with you?"

Forcing a smile, I said, "Sure if you want." For as much as I wanted to be alone, I also felt an overwhelming loneliness; who knew how much more time I had with these sweet angels?

My maids nodded, and started with their chores, while I sat stoically in the vanity chair, staring at my patchy face. Then a knock sounded on the door of my room, and Mary rose to get it.

"Lady America, the Prince is here to see you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the encouraging reviews and follows! I really hope you like this (but it's not one of my best because I have a writer's block today, but I tried!). And I'm sorry it's pretty short today. **

* * *

><p>Turning back in shock, I see Maxon entering my room, one leather shoe after the other. My maids curtsied and hurried out the room, giving us our much needed privacy. Lucy even snuck me a sneaky smile as she fluttered out the door, and my stomach clenched at her oblivion. She didn't know what had happened to me, and I didn't know what was <em>going<em> to happen to me.

So I sat in my deluxe vanity chair, drawing circles on the rich fabric with my finger and looking down at the patterned carpet. I couldn't look up; I just couldn't bring myself to see that agonized face again. What was he here for; to announce my doomed fate?

After a few minutes of overwhelming silence, neither of us had made any attempt at communication, and the silence was deafeningly pressing on my ears. I could feel his intense gaze on me, but I wasn't sure if it was a gaze of anger, hatred, sadness, or all. Maybe he hated me so much he couldn't even bear to speak to me.

Finally, I gathered up my courage and lifted up my head, staring right at him. His jaw was rigid and firm, and a hard look was reflected in his blue eyes, and yes, that strong intensity. Full of the hate, betrayal, devastation he felt; but also something else –and I wasn't sure what it truly was- but something like a persistent love for me.

"Aren't you arresting me?" I held out my wrists.

Why did that come out of my mouth? I should be pleading with him; to forgive me, to love me again, to send me home without punishment. But no, my pride won over, and I was still the girl with that fiery temper. I hated myself at that moment. How many people have I hurt, and I still care about my stupid pride?

Maxon coughed and sank down onto my bed. Those bright brown eyes were still fixated on me, and I suddenly felt conscious of my splotched red face. I couldn't take this anymore; not knowing where we stand. Are we enemies now, or friends, or still lovers?

"Look, Maxon, I'm really sorry about... Well, about all I've done, and..." A sob wrecked through my body, and I slid down the chair onto the floor. "Please just, please talk to me again." I was speaking through my tears now, with my body hunched into a fetal position, shaking uncontrollably.

Then, unexpectedly, a pair of soft hands stroked my back, and I turned my head to see myself in Maxon's glazed eyes. He held me tight against him, wiping the tears from my cheeks. However, this gesture only made me cry harder. After all the pain I had brought to him, he could still love and forgive me. It was _I _who couldn't forgive myself. America Singer was a cheater, and a liar; she doesn't deserve to be in Maxon's embrace.

Eventually, I sobbed myself to sleep on Maxon's chest, having had a sleepless night before. When I awoke, the twilight sky met my puffed eyes, and I realised I was in bed, curled up against Maxon. His breathing was rhythmic, each breath exhaled tickling my neck, and his expressionless face conveyed his youth. How can I not love someone so perfect; and how could he possibly have forgiven me?

Shortly after, Maxon awoke from his slumber, and he opened his eyes to the sight of me, dishevelled and confused. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my chin and jammed his mouth onto mine, kissing me forcefully. My hands pressed against his back, willing him to come closer, propelled with the desperation I felt in me. We were still lovers then, but it wasn't like before. I felt guilty towards him, and the guilt was an overwhelming wave in me, washing over my heart each time he kissed deeper. We kept kissing, even when my maids barged in and left, slamming the door with a gasp. We kissed till the sky went pitch dark, and the stars have peeked out of the sky.

Then we stopped, sweaty and satisfied, my red hair clinging to his neck. Many burning questions threatened to spill, but when I began the torrent, Maxon only shushed me with a kiss. I felt sure at his very moment that Maxon was the one I had loved all along. I was going to fight for him with every might I have. This was the most I could do for him, and my guilt just wouldn't let me give up. I had to make up to him.

Somewhere in me, I knew that this was just all my remorse's doing; that I wasn't actually sure how I felt now. My feelings and thoughts were jumbled up, and I couldn't actually process my emotions.

Soon, I will know what I really felt, but for now, I let my instincts take control of me.

* * *

><p><strong>Here's some Maxerica! Hope you liked it! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Decided to write another chapter since I'm free for once. Enjoy it!**

**sparklysparkle: Thanks! I'm new at writing fanfics and I'm trying to make them as 'in character' as possible, but give me any suggestions if you want. I kinda thought Maxon should be driven by jealousy and desperation. And yeah, I realized that after reading it again, and have changed it to brown eyes :)**

* * *

><p>"No, I haven't totally forgiven you, and I don't know if I ever will," Maxon stated, straightening his uniform. "Maybe it was the jealousy, but I needed to do more than he had done."<p>

I cringed inwardly; this was more complicated than I had thought.

"Don't you want to know what happened to him?" he stared, searching my face for a response.

My throat was dry and my tongue was like sandpaper; I couldn't force a word out. I swallowed nervously, willing the lump in my throat to disappear, but it didn't budge.

"Well, America, if it comforts you, I didn't tell anyone. Oh, and about Celeste, you better not agitate her. She's hopping mad right now. And as for Officer Leger, you should probably not meet him again." And with a slam of the door, he was gone.

What had he meant; what did he do to Celeste? And exactly what had happened to Aspen? I had spent the whole time hating myself, not realizing Maxon's forgiving side wasn't very generous at all. Hadn't I known that before?

I settled on the edge of my bed, depression rolling over me again, and waited for my maids to arrive. Sure enough, after a few minutes, they came bouncing in, elated smiles plastered on their faces; anticipating my good news. But when they saw my darkened face, their short-lived happiness immediately subsided, and they went about silently preparing my dress. Pulling myself up, I sat myself in front of the vanity, and my maids started on my make-up; covering all my imperfections.

"You're ready for breakfast, Lady America," Anne tapped my arm lightly. I had fallen asleep again.

My maids had put me in a gorgeous yellow dress, its material soft and silken, with sleeves up to my shoulders. Somehow, they had managed to make me appear presentable, though on the inside I was gradually breaking down. This was going to be a long day. Heaving myself off the chair, I stepped into my white flats, and slowly made my way down the stairs.

When I entered the dining hall, all eyes turned to me.

"A princess should _never_ be late," Silvia clucked as she shoved me over to my seat.

Sitting across from Celeste, it was hard to ignore her murderous glares, and I focussed all my attention onto my scrambled eggs, trying to ignore the curious glances I was receiving.

Finally, Kriss broke the silence, and whispered, "Why is Celeste staring daggers at you? Did you do the damage to her face?"

"Doesn't she always do that?" I shrugged nonchalantly, picking at my food and ignoring her second question.

"No, there's an intensified level of murder in those eyes." Then she gasped, "Did something happen between you and Maxon? We promised to be honest with each other."

"No, not really. Celeste just saw me on a date with Maxon, that's all." I forced a smile.

"Oh ok," she looked away, sensing I was hiding something from her, "I wonder what happened to her cheek though."

Stealing a glance at the royal family's table, I saw Maxon chatting amiably with Queen Amberly, smiling like nothing had happened. With his episode this morning and everything he said to me, I was even more confused. I gathered comfort in some things though; how it was still a secret- one that Celeste could spill anytime but nevertheless whatever Maxon had done was working, and how Aspen was generally fine. I wondered if he was going to send me home; which was a mercy compared to what he could have done.

After being dismissed from breakfast, I shuffled out the dining room, lagging behind the other girls as they headed towards the Women's Room. Unfortunately, Celeste was also behind me, and she caught up to me, pulling my arm. Her face had developed a welted scratch mark that even her make-up can't conceal, and her eyes were burning with hatred. Grabbing my arm and sinking her perfectly manicured nails into them, she dragged me into the girl's restrooms. Once we were safely in the confines of the restroom, out of sight of the general public, she slapped me across the face, her palm leaving a stinging ache that intensified.

"You're happy now, aren't you? I can't say a word about what I saw," her red nails trailed around the red mark her slap had left on my cheek. "Or Maxon will kick me out. KICK ME OUT, ALL BECAUSE OF A SLUT LIKE YOU!"

She screamed in rage, and using that opportunity, when her grip had loosened, I sunk my fingers into her tight bun and yanked at her brown hair. She took a swipe at me, smacking me square in the nose, and I stumbled backwards, holding a cubicle door for support. Blood had splattered all over the white tiles, and my nose was now bleeding consistently.

"Do you think I won't expose this? Huh?" she continued, coming closer to me, "I can leave the Selection and marry some other rich royalty, but after news of what you've done spreads, your future will be tarnished. No one wants to marry a cheating bitch like you!"

But deep down, I know she wouldn't risk it. She wanted the crown too badly - ached and yearned for it - to give it up.

The doors burst open, and two guards ran in, having heard the screams that emanated. They helped steady me immediately, one handing me a tissue to clean the blood on my face. The front of my pale yellow dress was stained with red spots, and my white fabric flats were stepping in my own blood. Celeste tried making a run for it, but was stopped at the door by Maxon, who held her wrists and yanked her roughly out of sight, her trailing red dress the last thing I saw.

Then all went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the favourites and follows! I appreciate all my readers :D **

* * *

><p>Bright light pierced my eyes as I opened them, and I held out a hand to block the rays. A figure immediately got up from the piano bench by my bed, and hurried to draw the curtains close. Hoisting myself up, I was knocked by a crippling wave of nausea, and I fell back down onto my mattress with a huff.<p>

"My lady, are you ok?" A sweet voice gently inquired. Was that Lucy? No, it was Anne, no... I gave up, and turned towards the voice, trying to focus my blurry eyes.

An unfocused image of Anne stood above me, worriedly looking down upon me, and wringing her apron with her hands. She placed a cool towel on my nose, and a dull ache throbbed as pressure was applied to it.

"What happened to my nose?" I blearily looked up at the ceiling, feeling a rush of blood flow through; like a nose bleed.

"The doctor told us it is broken, and to call him when the bleeding has stabilized so he could fix it. You'll have to try to keep your head up, and eventually put on an ice pack once the pain isn't so intense."

"Ok," I mumbled, trying to control the steady stream of blood pouring like a waterfall. A white cloth was placed beneath my chin, and it was mostly stained red already.

"I think I'll have to replace the cloth. Wouldn't want you staining your clothes, would we?" Anne carefully replaced my soiled cloth with a clean towel in a swift motion -I could tell she had done this many times before.

"Thank you," I said, and as an afterthought, "Sorry about ruining the pretty yellow dress... and those white shoes."

"No, no, Lady America, it's all right," Anne fluttered reassuringly over me, "Just concentrate on getting that nose fixed."

Just then, Mary shuffled in, balancing a new basin of ice water and a pile of towels in her bony arms. Anne rose to help her with her load, and once they had settled everything, Anne curtsied and took her leave.

"Lady America, I'm so glad to see you're fine!" Mary gushed excitedly, waving her arms as she chattered. "They brought you in here on a _stretcher_ and it looked so horrible, with your face all bloodied and your clothes all stained red. Said something about Celeste punching you – hopefully that'll get her kicked out. Just lay here for now; I'll bring you dinner later."

I smiled reassuringly at her, nodding my head, "How long will the bleeding last?"

"Umm... We're not very sure. The doctor says in maybe a couple hours, and mind you, that was when he last popped in three hours ago."

"Alright. And, any sightings of the Prince?" I decided to ask before I could present any doubts.

Mary smiled mischievously, "Ahhh yes, the Prince, he peeked in a few times while you were knocked out, and told us to inform him when you awoke." So that's were Anne had gone off to.

Passing me some painkillers, Mary poured a cup of water, and I obligingly swallowed the pills. Instantly I felt better, the pain in my nose now just a distant throbbing and the giddiness I had before had gone away. I sat up now, still gingerly pressing the cloth to my nose and arching my head back, and proceeded to switch the cloth for an ice pack. The cold numbed my skin, and a soft sigh of relieve passed through my lips.

The door cracked open, and a tall man in a white coat stepped in, walking over to me.

"Good afternoon, Lady America, I am Doctor Heler, and I'll be treating your nose." He had a booming but soothing voice, and I immediately felt assured.

"Good afternoon," I mumbled with my head in an awkward arch.

"Let me take a look at the damage," he removed the ice pack from my nose and inspected the injury closely. "Well, seems like it is broken but not too bad. I would suggest letting it heal on its own, and maybe bandaging it. If you have any cosmetic concerns, I suggest you bear with them and not do anything, and leave the bandage on. Don't remove it if you want your original nose."

I begin to like Doctor Heler, he was bold, and wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Taking out a roll of bandages from his leather briefcase, he began swiping at my nose with an antiseptic wipe, clearing off the dried blood and preventing infection.

As he worked, he talked. "I haven't seen such a 'serious' Selection ever! All these wounds and injuries caused by other girls; it wasn't like this in the King's time."

"Yes, everyone just seems so desperate for the Prince's affection," I coughed uncomfortably, not mentioning how desperate _I_ was for Maxon's attention.

"Who's desperate for my affections?" a familiar voice called in, and Maxon strolled in my room, looking regal in his neat suit.

"Oh, Lady America and I were just having a little chat while I heal her nose; to distract her from the pain, you know." Doctor Heler looks up briefly.

He had gone on to bandaging my nose now, twisting the sterile cloth expertly and pain free.

"Well, I'm sure Lady America can handle a bit of pain, can't she?" Maxon replied in a joking tone, looking directly into my eyes. But beneath that façade, I could sense a hidden meaning, and his tone did not fool me. His eyes were cool and distant as he stared at me, and my breath caught as I see the masked anger.

"I'm sorry, Lady America, did I hit a tender spot?" Doctor Heler asked worriedly, "Maybe my skills have faltered with my age."

Shaking my head, I assured him, and gave him a weak smile.

"Doctor Heler, your skills will never fail. I wouldn't know what to do without them." Maxon quipped, patting the doctor on the back. "Since Lady America is alright now, I better get going. Politics is waiting." And with a light wave, Maxon strode out, closing the door behind him.

Maxon and the doctor seemed to have a friendly and deep relationship, and I was happy for him. Maxon needed a friend in this huge, lonely place.

"All done!" Doctor Heler proclaimed, passing the bloodied wipes to my maids nearby. "Keep the bandages on, and it will be good as new in no time!"

"Thank you, Doctor," I looked at myself in the mirror, noting the heavy bandage that covered what was once my nose. It wasn't too bad actually, just covering a small portion of my face, and it didn't seem to bother me. "It's better than I thought."

"Glad to hear that. Many of the other girls would be bawling their eyes out by now, saying Maxon this and Maxon that; but you are one peculiar girl aren't you?"

Smiling meekly, I thanked him again, and Mary sent him out the door.

* * *

><p>It turns out; it wasn't me who was bothered by the partial covering of my face, but my maids.<p>

"Lady America, what are we going to do?!" Anne exclaimed, "The bandage obstructs everything!"

"Anne, its fine, just put some make up on my eyes and I'm ready to go."

"No, my Lady, we can't! We need to present you at your best at all times; its part of our job, and how are you going to win the Prince's heart?"

I didn't tell them how my chances of becoming princess have diminished by quite a lot in the past few days.

I sighed, "Really, Anne, everything is okay; I don't really feel like going down for dinner anyway. I'll just eat in my room. Tell everyone how I'm still weak and faint."

"Yes, my Lady, I'll get you your dinner right now." Mary turned on her heels.

After my dinner had been delivered, I forced my maids to stay and have dinner with me; not wanting to let my thoughts devour me, and also, I felt a little lonely. I was grateful for the company of these delightful girls, and nothing could stop me from spending what limited time I had with them. Then, I played the piano for them, a song that Anne loved in particular, and my maids waltzed around the room; forgetting our caste differences for a moment. I kept my thoughts at bay for the whole evening; only focussing on the company of these girls.

When we finally settled down, and my maids tucked me in bed, I felt a crippling emptiness. They bid me farewell, and I prepared myself for a restless slumber; certain I wouldn't be able to fall asleep.

However, I was wrong. My eyelids grew heavy in a few seconds, and the next thing I knew, I had drifted off to sleep.

Sirens sounded off in the far distance, and I ran desperately around an endless maze, footsteps thudding heavily behind me. There was a loud booming, and I looked back; thousands of rebel soldiers right behind my heels. Screaming, I thrashed around, waking up sweaty and afraid in my bed.

But no, the sirens were still persistently ringing, and I realized in shock that it was an actual rebel attack, not just a dream. Within seconds, my maids had pulled me up, placing a thick woolen robe over my thin nightgown, and pushing me out the door. I shuffled hurriedly along with them, still not fully awake, as Mary urged me to walk faster. Lucy was cowering in terror, and I wrapped my robe around her, hugging her close to my body.

There was no time to go down to the Royals' safe room, and so a guard ushered us into a tiny side room, activating the lock. But... that dark hair, and muscular stature; I knew it all too well.

"Aspen!" I screamed, but he shoved us in, and with a reassuring but frightened smile, he slammed the door, sprinting off into the dangers beyond.


	6. Chapter 6

Panting and sweating, my maids and I sat in the centre of the room, the light dim and the air still. Coolness lingered in the space, and though sweat was dripping down my temples, I felt cold. We huddled together, steadying ourselves and scanning our hide out. There was a shelf filled with provisions that would last us quite a long time, and a few piles of old blankets beside a rusted sink. The palace should really upgrade their safe rooms. Who knew if water still flowed from that tap?

The throbbing headache had resumed its work, and something hammered the back of my skull, thudding incessantly. My nose had started dully aching again, and I tried to take deep breaths to cool myself down. But that only made it worse, the air tasted like rusted metal, and I felt like gagging after a few breaths.

"Lady America, are you ok?" Anne touched my back gently, pulling the robe closer around my frame.

"Yes, yes, just a slight headache," I lied; my head was killing me. I stumbled towards the blankets and lay my heavy head on the pile, not caring what I was doing. The pain needed to stop.

Mary glanced worriedly at me, and then at Lucy, who was shaking like a leaf and taking quick gulps of air. She was hunched in a tight ball in a corner, rocking and making gasping noises. Not being able to move, I curled up on the freezing concrete floor, the cold numbing my senses, and drifted off into a dream-like state; not asleep but not conscious either.

When I had almost managed to get into a restless sleep, a gunshot rang through the hall right outside our room. I jerked straight up; my muscles tensed, and listened for any movement. There were sounds of a scuffle, and then a boot thudding heavily on someone's body, the crack of a bone, then a second gunshot. Southern Rebels. Lucy whimpered, her teeth clamming down onto her hands to prevent her screams. The boom of the shot rang in my ears, and my head whirled as the sound crawled deeper into my brain; then I threw up, my vomit lying in a puddle by my feet.

"Lady America, what happened?!" Mary gasped, hurrying over to me. She carefully lowered my head onto the pile of blankets, as if handling a newborn's tender crown, and begins to clean the puke on the ground. My maids were so courageous, they only thought of me.

Then, a loud tap rapped the wall, and the door slid open, revealing a familiar pair of leather shoes. Maxon stepped in, taking heavy breaths, and pushed the door shut, turning to face our entourage.

"America! What are you doing here? Aren't you with the rest?" He looked in disbelief, sliding the key he had used to get in into his pocket.

I tried to reply, but all that escaped was a groan, and I just lay there staring at him.

"Your Majesty," Anne curtsied, "We weren't able to get Lady America to the Royals' safe room in time, and so a guard brought us here."

"What's wrong with America?" Maxon eyed the vomit that Mary was still wiping, and his concerned gaze flickered to me.

"She has been having terrible headaches since she broke her nose, and it has gotten worse while escaping to this room. She just threw up a-"

Maxon crossed the room to me in a few strides, and kneeled by my head, stroking my hair and gazing down at me with gentle eyes. His mask had finally been taken off. Well, at least for the time being. He pulled my robe over my shivering body, tucking the soft woolen material under me, creating a barrier between the floor and my skin. I instantly felt better, and my heavy eyelids closed, all the while feeling Maxon's fingers brushing my hair.

I awoke sometime later, and not being able to judge what time it was, I was unsure of how long I had slept. My maids were all asleep, blankets covering their bodies, and Maxon was curled up beside me, a hand protectively placed on my arm. When he felt me stir, his eyes flashed open, and seeing no threat, began to ease into a smile.

"How are you?" He asked, lightly touching my temple. "Still aching?"

"A little, but I'm much better," I croaked. "Maybe just a little disoriented."

He laughed softly, and put an arm around my shoulders, giving me warmth.

"Why are _you_ here? This place is miles away from the safe room." I questioned, blinking the sleep away from my eyes.

"Well, I was taking a stroll in the gardens and-"

"In the middle of the night?" I looked at him incredulously.

"Yes, I just needed time to think, you know."

Think about what, I wanted to ask but resisted the idea. I didn't need any of this right now.

"So, anyway, I heard the sirens and knowing I wouldn't be able to get to the opposite side of the castle in time, I came here, knowing this was the closest place to where I was. But rebels were already pouring in by then, and when I got here, two of them were fighting a guard. They spotted me, and were going to shoot when another guard tackled them from behind. And while they were distracted, Officer Leger led me in here."

"Aspen?" I breathed.

Maxon's body grew stiff, and I felt more vomit making its way up my throat. Why did I have to say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now things were going to be cold between us again.

But Maxon relaxed, and held me closer, breathing into my ear.

"I'm so glad you're fine," he began, but the door slid open, and a palace guard walked in.

"It's over, Your Majesty," he bowed, and placed the key back into his coat.

But just as he pulled his hand out, a gun appeared too, aiming right at our huddled bodies.

In a split second, Maxon turned his back to the gun and ducked, sheltering me in his embrace, but a pained gasp made its way out of Maxon's lips, and he crashed to the ground.

Crimson spread over his white suit.

* * *

><p><strong>Everyone loves a cliff hanger, right? <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the cliff hanger! You know I'm not going to kill Maxon, right? I'm not ****_that _****evil. But maybe I am. Enjoy!**

**if i were infinity : No, he hasn't really forgiven her. He just loves her a lot, and is really jealous of Aspen, and wants to do more than Aspen had done with America. Hope it's not too confusing! :)**

**Thanks for reading, everybody! **

* * *

><p>A scream rose in my throat, but got lodged there, and I fell onto the hard ground, unable to call for help. My maids were huddled together at the far end of the wall, whimpering and shaking. The guard – or as the situation presented itself now, <em>rebel <em>– advanced towards us, the thud of his boots echoing through the dank room, counting the number of steps to our end. He raised his hand again, the handgun in his tight grasp, and aimed the gun at us, its muzzle directly in our faces.

I knew that death was unavoidable, and I willed my eyes to close, but they wouldn't comply; and so I stared wide eyed into the black depth of the gun, where the bullet would make its appearance. Though Maxon was writhing in pain beside me, his arm still encircled my frame defensively; like a vise that would keep me safe.

I should be frightened, panicked, or showing some form of fear, but I didn't. I decided I was too strong for this; if I were to die today, I would die with pride. I wouldn't flinch, or scream; I would fight to the end. My stupid pride again, what a dumb decision. Staring coolly at the rebel, I defiantly held my chin up high, daring him to shoot. And he obliged, his finger pressing on the trigger that would end my life. But just as he was about to shoot, Maxon used what remaining strength he had to knock me to the ground. A gust of air left my lungs as the impact hit my body, and a sharp ache stabbed at my chest.

However, nothing could hurt as much as the sound of another shot, and the expression on Maxon's face as he took the force of a second bullet. Then a shot whistled through the air, and I braced myself for the hit, but the rebel in front of me collapsed face first, hitting the ground. Looking up, I saw a guard facing us, his gun in his hands.

"Ma-MAXON!" I screamed, stumbling towards the guard, "GET A DOCTOR. GET SOMEONE!"

Nodding, the guard ran off immediately, racing to get help. I crawled towards Maxon's limp body, afraid to lay a finger on him. His suit was mostly red now, his blood covering the floor around him, and I could barely manage to find where he had been shot. It seemed like it had been in the back and on the right arm where he had blocked the bullet for me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and the pressure finally took me over, my body shaking with fear. He had taken the bullet for _me._ His love for me ran so deep, and all I could do was be a cheater.

Guards hurried in with a stretcher, and lifted Maxon off the ground, leaving behind a pool of red. As they ran out, I rushed after them, not wanting Maxon to leave my sight.

But a pair of strong arms grabbed me from behind, "Lady America, please come with me."

I thrashed against the restraining arms, clawing at every possible inch of skin I could make contact with, but to no avail. Finally I gave up, and went limp in the guard's arm.

"Lady America! Lady America, are you ok?"

No. No, I'm not.

* * *

><p>The air was so still, so calm in my room. How could it be so calm when Maxon was in danger? I lay awake in the moonbeam, staring up at the smooth ceiling. Anne had draped herself on my vanity chair, in an uncomfortable looking position, and was now sound asleep. After forcing a 'calming' pill down my throat, the doctor had suggested someone be with me at all times, since I was considered "deranged and uncontrollable". He wasn't Doctor Heler; he wasn't as good as Doctor Heler. Well, turns out all the pill did was made my body tired. It did nothing to soothe the turmoil in my head.<p>

The sound of Anne's steady breaths wasn't comforting, and I pushed the covers off me, walking barefooted over to the balcony doors and pulling them open. Fresh cold air blew at me, my hair dancing in the wintery Angeles breeze. My bare feet touched the frozen marble tiles, instantly bringing goose bumps to my body. I could act now, if I wanted to. I could get to the hospital wing without anyone noticing. I had to see Maxon, whatever it took. I needed the reassurance.

What if there wasn't reassurance? What if it was worse than I thought? I waved away the thought; I need hope.

Tiptoeing out of the room, I silently eased the door open, creeping out of my room. They didn't station a guard outside my door tonight, since Anne was in the room with me, and so I had it easy. I ran the whole way to the hospital wing, my thin nightgown giving no protection against the chilly air in the hallways, and my feet made temporary dents in the plush carpet. When I finally got to the hospital wing – a good few minutes run from my room- I was struck by the number of rooms there were. Signs pointed in different directions, and I tried following the "Critical Care Unit" arrow, finding myself in a bleached white corridor. The smell of antiseptic hung in the atmosphere, and the fluorescent lights stung my dark-accustomed eyes.

I looked through every window, peeked in every door, but there was no sign of Maxon. Then, a soft glow emanated from the distance, the only room that was lighted, and I raced to the end of the long hallway. My feet made slapping noises with every step I took, and they stung with cold. Looking in the small window situated on the door, I spotted a bandaged figure on the hospital bed. A heart monitor beeped with every beat of his heart. He was alive. He's not dead. I pushed the door handle down, eager to see him.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice asked from behind, and I whipped around.


	8. Chapter 8

_Maxon's POV_

I looked through a haze, a translucent film that covered my eyes, and see her face; slim and pale. Her fiery hair glistened, radiating a soft, warm glow, and my eyes were transfixed on the beauty, unable to look away. Then, her face leaned down close to mine, our skin almost touching, and I lifted my hand, wanting to touch her. But I couldn't. My arm was heavy and numb, and a thick aching transcended the whole limb, making it impossible to move. She gave me a soft kiss on the forehead, a gentle lingering kiss that warmed my whole being, and turned around to leave. Wait! I tried to shout, but even my throat felt numb, and I could not make a sound.

She swept out the door, her nightgown swishing around her bare ankles.

_America's POV_

"What do you think you're doing?" A strict but weary voice sounded from behind me, and I turned around, finding myself face-to-face with Queen Amberly.

"Your Majesty," I curtsied, almost losing my balance, "I just wanted to see if Maxo-, Prince Maxon was alright."

"Lady America, the Prince needs ample rest, and no visitors but the King and I are allowed to see him yet." The Queen explained, gentleness seeping back into her voice, "I will allow you a minute or two though, but don't tell anybody."

"Thank you," I broke out in a smile, "Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Queen Amberly smiled pleasantly, and eased the door open for me, her soft hands on the cold knob. Then she gave me a soft pat on the back, and I walked in, the door closing behind me.

Maxon was awake, but his eyes were glazed and glassy, reflecting light. He was pale, his hair messy like I had never seen before – his hair was always neat and perfect. Thick bandages were wrapped around his shoulder, and he had a loose hospital shirt on, more bandaging peeking out from the back. I edged closer to him, being as quiet as possible, and gazed down, my nose almost touching his. He had risked so much for me; he was even willing to give up his life. And what had I done but bring him pain, again and again? It was my fault he was here, and I felt detached from my body, emotionless and unfeeling. The cold was leeching up my warmth, and I liked it; it numbed my senses. Finally, I gave him a peck on his forehead, and shuffled out of the room.

I awoke on my own bed, under my warm covers, and reached up to shield my eyes as a beam of sunlight filtered through the curtains. A breeze whisked at my hair, and I got out of bed. My maids were already hard at work, sweeping and scrubbing, and when they saw me awake, they ran over, preparing me for my shower. I glanced at the clock, 11:42 flashing in my face.

"It's already almost noon?" I asked aloud in shock. Why did no one wake me up?

"Yes, Lady America, the Queen excused you from breakfast this morning." Mary replied, pulling my hair up into a bun.

"Oh, yes, exciting news!" Anne squealed, "Dr. Heler came in this morning and said to see him in the hospital after you had awaken. It seems you're ready to remove your bandages!"

Lucy nodded excitedly beside her, unscrewing lids off bottles of sweet smelling soaps, and pouring amounts of it into the bathtub.

"Well, it's about time," I patronized, though the whole bandage thing wasn't really bothering me. At least Celeste couldn't get the satisfaction of seeing me with bandages on my face; which was a victory for her.

"Oh yeah," I looked at my maids, "What happened to Celeste?'

Lucy eased my nightgown off me, "We heard from her maids that Maxon got really upset with her, and told her to leave the Selection. But then she said something about keeping secrets, and Maxon gave in."

"Really, what secret is so important to still keep her here? She's a terror. We're so lucky we have you, Lady America," Mary smiled.

Suddenly, I remembered, "What was the aftermath of the rebel attack?"

"The worst attack ever, some are saying. Hundred of deaths and casualties; soldiers and maids."

Lucy continued, "Most mysterious though, is the disappearance of Officer Leger. He was so nice and sweet... and handsome!" She looked far into the distance dreamily.

"Yes, and he even helped us escape into the safe room. I hope he's ok." Anne added.

Aspen? Aspen is missing? How? I remembered the last glimpse I had of him, as he turned to smile and slam the door shut.

"Is there no trace of him at all?" I inquired again, this time truly concerned. I needed to keep my actions in check; even my maids were suspecting something between us now.

"No, not at all. He was last seen firing towards a rebel, but after they combed the entire palace, no one found _him _or his body."

Clutching the sides of the tub, I processed this.

Aspen was missing.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this was so short! This is kind of the 'after climax' moment. It will pick up soon, though, I promise! And I also tried the dual POV thing, comment and let me know how it is. <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

The evening was beautiful and unseasonably warm, the soft breeze lifting up the skirts of my pink dress. After an hour or so spent in the hospital with Dr. Heler removing the bandaging on my face, I had snuck into Maxon's ward to pay him a visit. I couldn't resist it; there was a strong urge to see him, to kiss him in his fog-like condition.

Sitting down on the bench where Maxon and I had our first meeting, my fingers felt the smooth texture of the white marble, cold under my touch. A pang of nostalgia hit me; can we ever be the same again? I was almost certain I loved him, but why can't I agree, and become the Princess of Illéa? And now, after I had messed things up repeatedly; first the Capital Report presentation that seemed like a distant memory, then my secret meeting with Aspen, and now putting his life in danger, can I still ask for his forgiveness? But there was still Aspen, and as much as I loved Maxon, I couldn't wash off my memory of what Aspen and I had been through together. My love for Aspen was like a sweet past, a dream that had happened and took its leave, and though I still loved him, it wasn't passionately like before. My passion resided with Maxon now, and I took Aspen's disappearance as a blessing in disguise; even though I was slightly worried for him.

I sank my head down into my hands, letting the wind blow through me, and closed my eyes. A slight rustle of leaves caught my attention, and I looked up, expecting to see a guard telling me to return indoors. But there in front of me was Queen Amberly, in a magnificent ice blue dress, and a gentle gaze. She was so queenly, so fit for royalty; that I wondered for the umpteenth time if anyone was able to surpass or even get up to par with her.

Hurriedly standing up, I curtsied, "Good evening, Your Majesty."

The queen sat down on the bench, and motioned for me to do the same.

Then, speaking in a clear but thoughtful voice, she said, "Lady America, do you love Maxon?"

"I-I...maybe." I stammered, a slight blush tinting my cheeks, matching my hair.

"This whole Selection has taken quite a toll on him. He's not like his dad, who is ruthless in a way and strict, but Maxon is gentle, and considerate of other's feelings. As a mother, I can tell he's certainly entranced by you, but something is holding him back, and I don't know what.

"Maybe it's you who's holding him back, America, or for whatever reason. But I do hope he is happy; that at the end of this, he'll truly find someone he loves and is happy with. As happy as the King and I look together, there are cracks in our marriage; cracks that have been there because of the Selection, and I don't want Maxon to choose a girl just because his parents or the advisors tell him to. I want his choice to be from his own heart." She confided, looking straight into my eyes.

Why was the Queen telling me this? What did it all mean?

"Your Majesty, but, why are you telling me all these?"

Queen Amberly took my hand from my lap and clasped it in hers, "Because I can envision you as the future queen of Illéa, I see the plans you have for the country; I can see you making it a better place for all. And I can see the love you have for Maxon, it sparkles in your eyes, and I can see the important spot you have in Maxon's heart. Stay strong, America, I'm always rooting for you." And with that she left, gracefully stepping through the leaf strewn ground.

I watched her back as she left, her dress skimming the ground noiselessly, and that graceful poise she always has. She always knew the right words to say, the proper ways to act in all situations, and most importantly the way she carries herself; so regal but gentle. I, on the other hand, was brash and unladylike; with no manners, and always saying the wrong things. How could I compare to her, the beloved queen everyone loves, when my rankings were almost at the bottom of the 'People's Favourite List'?

Tears stung my eyes again, almost brimming over, and I swiped a hand across my eyes, rubbing off any sign of weakness. I was going to fight hard; whatever it took, I know I love Maxon. And with the Queen's words of encouragement, I had more confidence than ever. No one was going to bring me down, not Celeste or King Clarkson or anyone else. Maxon is my choice, and I would stick true to it.

* * *

><p>"Lady America," the nurse sighed exasperatedly, "You can't go in."<p>

"Please, I just want to see the Prince," I pleaded, looking desperately through the window at his sleeping figure.

"No visitors are allowed, I'm sorry, but those are the rules."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Anger was welling up in me, "No one tells me what his condition is like."

"Alright, my Lady, if it will stop you from trying to enter, I will inform you." The nurse peered at me over her spindly glasses, gesturing for me to move to the side.

"The Prince had suffered shots both on the back and on his right shoulder. The bad thing is, the shot he got on the back struck extremely near his spine, and he might be paralysed if not properly treated."

"Wh-" I started to question, but was silenced by her stern stare.

"The good news is, the shot on the shoulder wasn't serious, and it is healing very fast. Doctors are still trying to see if there will be any permanent damage to the Prince's spinal area, and so tests are currently being performed. Now, for your question, Lady America?"

"Why is he always in a dreamlike state? It's like he's awake but not."

"The Prince is currently being administered high doses of painkiller to help him cope with his pain, and the medication makes one very drowsy." And, as if sensing my next question, she continued, "Doctors have estimated another week before the tests can confirm anything, and until then, we can't discharge him or take the medication away from him."

"Thank you," I mumbled, trying to look past her into Maxon's ward.

She nodded, and walked away, her clipboard tucked under her arm.

* * *

><p>On the way back to my room from the hospital ward, I ran into a fuming Celeste, her hair half done up.<p>

"Get out of the way," she growled, shoving me roughly.

Behind her, her maids were hurrying along, their faces panicked and tear-stained.

"See if they'll fire all of you useless idiots!" She screamed, clambering down the stairs in her heels. "Can't even do a simple job properly."

Then I heard a blood curling scream, belonging to Celeste herself, and ran down the stairs to see what had happened.

A guard lay dead at the bottom of the staircase, a knife thrust into his throat.

* * *

><p><strong>Ok, guys, I'm Maxerica all the way, but I kind of feel bad for Aspen too (and he's also one of the main characters) so I'm just including him in the story. You'll see him a little more, and then he'll go. Promise. Btw, I just love Queen Amberly! <strong>

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**So sorry for the long period without an update! Life has been hectic for me this past month with meets, practices and crazy school. I finally found the time to update. Yay! Oh and ****_Happy Belated Birthday, America Singer!_**** Enjoy the chapter and thanks for all the awesome reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. I'll try to update as often as a I can from here on out.**

* * *

><p>Guards came rushing in from every direction possible, all with rifles ready by their sides. Celeste had visibly gone into shock mode, her eyes unblinkingly staring at the corpse. She had to be ushered away by a distressed looking young guard; who didn't seem to know what to do with her.<p>

"Lady America, please move aside too," an older guard directed with his hands, gently urging me forward.

I nodded numbly, shuffling my feet. It seemed like the rebel attacks were getting more frequent, and certainly more violent; and I wonder again: how safe are we in this palace? Rebels could filter in unbeknownst, and what would stop them from murdering by the masses? Pure fear gripped my frame, and a long shudder travelled down my body; I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and stared at the once-alive guard.

A gleaming name tag was engraved exquisitely in slender, slanting letters that did not match well with the current situation. The light reflecting off the metal badge struck my eye, and I turned away from it, just in time to spot a heavy arm wrapping around my neck.

The guard held me tight against him, moving steadily backwards as I struggled to keep my feet moving. I felt a cold object digging into my back; a gun. By now, all eyes were on us, and a few guards were advancing towards us warily, their fingers on the trigger of their gun.

"PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN!" a loud voice bellowed right in my ear, and I jumped, causing him to press the gun even deeper into my skin.

None of the guards complied, and the 'guard' holding me spoke again, "Either that or this lovely lady here dies. Weigh your choices."

The older guard who had told me to move earlier on stood forward and placed his rifle on the ground, then straightened up slowly and looked at my captor. Then, with a tiny gesture, he ordered the rest of the guards to lower their weapons. A series of thuds emitted, and all had dropped their guns.

"Let her go now," the guard's levelled eyes looked straight into mine.

Even though his voice was calm and collected, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't certain of the outcome. That's when the magnitude of the situation dawned on me, I could die. A billion things raced through my mind: My family, Maxon, Aspen, the words Queen Amberly spoke to me. I closed my eyes, regretting the things I haven't done. I hadn't had the chance to tell Maxon I chose him. I couldn't find out Aspen's whereabouts. I didn't tell my family I loved them.

Inhaling shakily, I willed my eyelids to open, and looked around me. Guards were all unarmed and staring at me. I had no idea what my captor was going to do with his hostage next, but I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with releasing me. After getting their hands on one of the Selected, they were obviously not going to let her go. I thought of what had happened to Lucy, and a deeper shiver wracked my body; what were they going to do to me?

What happened in the next moment was so fast and blurred; I had no time to process anything. A huge horde of guards in their stark uniforms charged forward from the hallway behind, and before I had time to feel relieved, the bangs of shots were fired.

One by one the unarmed guards fell to the floor, blood dyeing their white coats a vivid red. The older guard was the last one down, and his eyes conveyed a strong sense of apology and regret; one that I would never forget.

I was paralyzed, rooted to the spot in the moment, and when my captor tried to push me forwards, I collapsed in a heap. My head landed by the toe of his black shoes, and I could feel his arms scoop me up from below. Blackness clouded my vision.

* * *

><p>I was falling; my body felt like it was being swallowed into the abyss below, slowly descending into nothing. The sensation of a rapid descend hung in my body, and it felt as if my heart was in my throat. No sound would make its way out of my mouth, not a scream for help, not a whimper. Nothing. A thud signified the end of my downwards journey, and I felt bile rising up my throat, threatening to make its way out. It all felt very dream-like, not reality but close to it. I was certain I hadn't actually fallen what seemed like a thousand feet, but my whole body ached and the nausea was real. There was a chill that pressed against my skin too, and my entire being felt torn off from the real world.<p>

Pitch darkness was all there was around me, and I was sure my eyes were still closed. I tried opening them, making those heavy lids blink, and that was when I realized that they were already open. The room – or whatever I was in- was consumed with blackness. Not even a filter or glimmer of light made its way in, and it looked exactly the same as when I closed my eyes.

My fingers groped around the hard ground, feeling the warmth of them getting drained away. This place was freezing _and _dark. Wrapping my numb fingers in the skirts of my dress, I huddled into a ball, making sure every inch of my body was covered in the silky fabric. It was a tough thing to do, but my desperate need for warmth pushed me to the extremes, and soon, I was slightly warmer than before. Not by much, though.

I made a mental note to myself to ask my maids for warmer dresses if I ever get out of this; _if. _What a trivial thought to have in the circumstance I was in, but I was grateful that I was safe in the dark for the moment. Even little bits and trivialities could take my mind off this dank place; so why not?

Burying my face into the soft material of my dress, I shivered and thought of the happy moments in my memories; anything to keep this place from sucking the life out of me. I thought of the warm breezes in Carolina, the pit-pat of rain against our kitchen window, and the bright yellow dandelion heads that bloomed in the spring. I thought of the times making dinner with May, my father's gentle and weary smile, Gerad's tattered soccer ball under his easel, and Aspen's green eyes in the tree house. I even thought about the fights I had with my mother, our tempers clashing every so often, and that memory conjured a smile in me. Lastly, I thought of Maxon, his kind eyes brightening whenever he sees my face, his strong arms wrapping around my body, and his hand tugging his ear at the dinner table. My thoughts brought me unparalleled warmth, and I felt better already; gazing into the expanse of my life.

A clinking noise shook me out of my happy thoughts, and I snapped back into reality, the cold returning into me. I looked up from the darkness of my skirts to see a piercing white light that burned my dark-accustomed eyes. The silhouette of a tall figure stepped in, his steps ringing in my ears.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello hello! I tried updating yesterday, but was too tired to continue writing (ugh, those swim practices are brutal), and so here you go! This chapter's a little short, and so I'll update ASAP hopefully by tomorrow to make up for it :) Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Cowering backwards against the concrete wall, I stared up into the blinding light, looking at the outline of a large man. His arms were obviously well-trained – bulging muscles under his jacket, and he towered over me, his frame casting a bulky shadow in the ray. The man walked towards me, every contact his boots made with the floor clearly echoing around the empty room.<p>

Wordlessly, he grabbed my arm, pulling them out of the warmth of my lap, and dragged me up from my stiff position. My legs could not hold themselves up, being scrunched up in the same position for who knows how long, and I dropped right back down onto the ground, hitting the hard surface with a painful thud. Grunting in pain, I hoist myself up again, using my arms to push me off the floor; trying to avoid any physical contact with the man.

He seemed to catch on to my train of thought, and walked out in a brisk pace, looking back occasionally to check if I was following. It was strange how the rebels didn't think to shackle me or at least keep me more guarded, but then maybe there was no way for me to escape, defeating the need for any form of extra security. I trudged along, getting my leaden legs to function and trying to warm myself up. In the meantime, I tried to memorize the turns we took and surroundings; in case the opportunity arises that this knowledge would be useful.

We have been walking through hallways the whole time, lighted with fluorescent lights that were fixed on the low ceilings, giving the place an eerie hospital feel. My attempt at memorizing the directions failed too; this place was like a labyrinth, seemingly endless and everywhere looked hopelessly the same as the place before. My eyes still squinted against the lighting, and I tried avoiding any trace of light, resulting in me walking with my head slunk down. That was when I realized I was barefooted, and my toes had a weird bluish tinge to them. That wasn't good news.

Ignoring my discolouring toes for a moment, I glanced up to see a door at the end of this hallway. The man reached the door, and I see his face for the first time. I let out a tiny gasp, but immediately looked away, afraid of what he was going to do to me. He had a little scruff of a beard growing under his mouth, a large flat face that was lined with numerous scars, and an alert grey eye that eyed me cautiously. One alert grey eye. The thing that made me gasp was the thick red welt that ran down his face, from his hairline to his cheek, running through his left eye. It split his face, and I could tell that he was blind in one eye, his eyelid permanently sealed shut by the scar.

I didn't dare look up at him anymore after, and he did not seem to mind as he pushed open the metal door, pulling me in. Looking around, I realized we were in a lab of some sort. Beakers connected to transparent tubes travelled around the room, all running back to the same huge container at the far end. I had always thought that rebels were homeless armies who dominated large areas of land or ruins. Never would I have thought they had high-tech machines and their own 'base', and it hit me that Iléa doesn't know anything about the rebels. Without knowledge, how can we fight? I take in every detail of this room, committing it to memory so that I could tell Maxon _if_ I get back. The word _if_ terrifies me, and I hold back a sob. I have been strong for so long already, I can continue keeping it up.

Just then, a click caught my attention, and I turned abruptly to see a door I hadn't noticed before right beside the huge container. The door was obviously made to blend in with the surrounding walls; painted a sterile white with no visible handles or hinges. A slender woman in a white lab coat walked in, safety glasses perched on her slim nose, clipboard in her gloved hands. She notices us, and then smiles warmly at me, and gestures for us to follow her through the door she just walked out of.

When I didn't budge, the man prodded my back with a strong hand, pushing me towards the hidden door. I willed my legs to move, trying my best not to collapse in the midst of my steps. He placed a large hand on the door, and it automatically slides open, revealing a spacious office area. Directly a few feet across from me is a massive oak desk piled with stacks of books and papers, some scattered messily around the table, and a few books lay opened. Pens of different colours lay randomly around too, giving the dull room a splash of colour. All around the room shelves neatly arranged with books lined the walls, and the map of Iléa hung down from the only empty space between two shelves. Red stickers filled the map, almost covering the entire country with red dots.

A young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, sat behind her desk in a tall leather chair, her eyes gazing at me expectantly. She had an aura of charm surrounding her, and she was impossibly beautiful, perfect features with a pretty face. Her soft brown hair reminded me of Celeste, the only exception that she wears it down with gentle curls at the tips. Waving me forward with long fingers, she gestures for me to take a seat in a chair facing her. I obliged, but only because the man was pushing me forward with great force, and huffed down onto the soft seat. A warm sensation travelled up my legs, finally getting the rest they needed, and I sighed softly.

The young woman lightly rapped her knuckles on the desk twice, catching my attention, and gave me a smile that showcased her pearl white teeth. They were as white and clean as her lab coat, obviously fake and extremely unnatural, but with great beauty like this, it was no surprise to see equally perfect teeth.

She held out her hand, her nails a perfectly manicured black, "Nice to meet you, America, I'm Safara Schreave."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello! I uploaded as fast as possible; be proud of me! Anyway, I'm doing the dual POV thing again because I enjoy writing from different angles. Hope you like it! Oh, and I won't be updating as regularly in the next week or so because I have 2 meets and a bunch of exams. **

**Athenachild101: Yay! You understand the pain I go through! Our coach is a little bit nicer and just makes us do 20 push-ups before we can use the bathroom though. **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter, guys!**

* * *

><p><em>Maxon's POV<em>

Something warm and soft lightly stroked my cheek, and a satisfied smile crept onto my face; it must be America here to visit me. I haven't seen her in days, and I slowly opened my eyes, squinting from the piercing light.

A pair of light brown eyes met my own, followed by the familiar subtle smile of my mother. My disappointment must have been plain on my face, because a flash of panic flitted across her calm features, and she quickly turned it back to the concerned one I've seen every day.

"Hey Mom," I croaked out, trying to sit up.

"Good morning, darling," she greeted, helping me straighten my back, "How did you sleep?"

"Same old restlessness," I shrugged, "When can I get out of here? This place is dull."

"I thought Dr. Heler explained yesterday that you had to stay for further observations?"

I sighed, "Yes, but I'm completely healed and fi-", I groaned as I moved my arm.

"No, you're not, Maxon. Listen to the professionals," she rolled her eyes.

"But Mom, have you seen America lately? She hasn't been visiting very often has she?" I asked, frowning up at her. My mother knows exactly how I feel about America, and she always told me what was happening to her when I couldn't make time to see her.

A look of dread came over her slim face, making me more certain she was hiding something. She clearly was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, honey, while you were passed out in the last few days, many things happened." Her face was hidden behind her hair to prevent me from reading her expression.

"Like what?" I pressed, determined to get an answer at all costs.

She recognized that look on my face, and knew that I would stop at nothing to get what I wanted.

Resigning, she turned to me with tears in her eyes. "There was a rebel infiltration in the palace about three days ago. They dressed up as guards and killed a large population of our guards. When we finally realized what was happening, we couldn't stop it. We made sure all the Elite were safe, until Kriss pointed out that America was nowhere to be seen. After it was deemed safe, we all combed the palace over trying to find her, but a soldier told us there were people who saw her being carried away by a rebel."

My muscles were frozen, unable to move an inch. Every inch of my body went rigid; my heart unable to stop the crippling pain from enveloping it, and my brain was gauzed with a thick fog. America isn't safe. America is gone. With the rebels.

Suddenly someone was hugging me tightly, the air from my lungs getting squeezed out, but still I couldn't move. My limbs weren't functioning any longer, and I just sat there gasping for air; holding onto any lifeline that would take me through this misery. I faintly hear my mother's tiny sobbing, telling me to come back to her. But I couldn't, I liked being surrounded by this mist of obliviousness. The sound of the door opening muffled in with the other noises, and my father's low voice travelled to my ears. This was the voice I feared so much for so long; all my life, and now it was nothing but a little buzz. I could tell he was yelling at me, but I ignored him.

The rebels have America.

* * *

><p><em>America's POV<em>

It was dark in here again –the little room I had inhabited for the past days- and I curled into a tight ball like always. The pitch black and low temperatures were normality now, and I had gotten used to it. Does my family know I've been captured by the rebels? Did they broadcast it for the entire country? How is Maxon doing? Is he recovered? Those questions haunt me in my isolation.

No, from what I've learnt of how the royal family runs the country, I'm sure no one but people in the palace know of my situation. Were they even trying to come and save me? Or am I just another girl who has so sadly died in the hands of the rebels? But I know with a strong conviction that Maxon would never leave me in the lurch. He would do anything in his power to make sure I was safe and satisfied. If only he was conscious now.

At that moment, I realized how selfish I really was. All I cared about was if Maxon were awake to safe me. Did I really care about Maxon's personal condition, or was I more concerned about my own? Good job, America, what a great way to betray Maxon's love for you. I was appalled with myself; I couldn't believe such a selfish person could exist. But, here I am, probably the worst human being on earth.

A glimmer of hope popped into my head, but I shoved it away as quickly as it came. No, I wasn't going to betray the country to safe my skin. Nevertheless, I thought back to the conversation.

_"Nice to meet you, America, I'm Safara Schreave." Her blood red lips and blinding teeth made another appearance. _

_Schreave? Does she have connections with the royal family? She must have seen the confusion on my face, for she laughed lightly, waving her long black nails in my face._

_"Yes, I am indeed a Schreave, but that long ago story shall be told another time." _

_I couldn't do anything but nod my heavy head._

_"Well, well my dear, why are you so quiet? Where is that lively young lady with a fighting spirit?" _

_Safara twirled a red pen between her black nails, examining me closely; scrutinizing my every move. Then she let out a maniacal laughter, her blue eyes twinkling with delight._

_"Are you scared of me? Are you scared of Roy there at the back?" she gestured to the man. Then she chuckled again, obviously amused by my response – or lack thereof._

_Something tells me that under that pretty face masks an unpredictable psycho, a ticking bomb that could explode anytime. She certainly had emotional or mental issues. _

_A loud slam made me jump, and she smiled as I focussed my attention back on her._

_"When I talk, I like it when people look at me. It's something called respect. I guess they don't teach that at the palace, do they?" She chortles, and I stared at her uncomfortably. _

_"Yes, yes, very good, look at me when I talk. I'll teach you some manners before sending you back to be your little princess." She laughs again, "But maybe you won't go back. It all depends on your performance, you see." _

_I found my voice, "Wh-what do you want me to do?"_

_"Ahhh found your pretty voice now, haven't you? Listen very carefully to every word I say then. It might be life or death." _

_I looked at her perfect features unblinkingly._

_"We need you to be a rebel. Be the fake leader. We'll control you like a little puppet from the behind. We need to let the people see that a daughter of Iléa, a member of the Elite, is fighting the oppression this country has thrown over us." _

_Wow, Safara wasn't one to beat around the bush. She was so direct to the point that she would admit I was only a puppet. _

_"No, no, no, I would never betray my country," I stood up abruptly, knocking my chair over. _

_Roy was immediately by my side, holding my shoulder firmly. Safara stood up slowly, smiling at me like I brought her such joy, and walked over calmly, smoothing her dress down. Then she held me by the chin with her sharp nails, and slapped me with the back of her other hand. My cheek stung with the force of the slap. Who knew such delicate hands could do so much harm? _

_Then she leaned in to my ear, whispering, "DO NOT get up unless you're excused. See what you did to my chair?"_

_She trailed her black index nail lightly across my face, giving me shivers, and laughed again. She had a pretty laugh like a melody, and she clearly enjoys using it for the wrong reasons. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Ok, my dears, we ALL want Maxerica back, right? Well, good news: It's coming back soooooon! (Probably next chapter, if not the chapter after the next) I just wanted to add a little more action into the story, and I think I'm starting to miss Maxerica too, so don't worry, it'll be right up! My busy week is finally over, and that means I get to update more. **

**Please review, review, review! They mean a lot to me, and I enjoy reading your encouragements and thoughts :) They motivate me to update faster because I always feel bad when I don't update. Enjoy, and till next time! **

* * *

><p><em>Maxon's POV<em>

"What do you mean you have no news?!" I growled in frustration, slamming my fist on the heavy desk.

The soldier jumped. Good. They needed to know the urgency of the situation.

But deep inside, I knew it wasn't their fault that there was a lack of information regarding America's capture. They had tried their very best, everyone had, and it wasn't fair to hold them accountable for anything.

I tried to regain my composure, and took a shaky breath. It would not help if I were tensed all the time.

"I'm sorry," I stared wearily at the soldier, "Things have just been extremely hard lately."

"I understand, Your Majesty," he gave me a curt bow, "I'll go see if I can find out anything more."

"Thank you." And he was out the door.

Sinking down into my cushioned chair, I lay my head down on the desk, not caring that it was atop a pile of presumably highly important documents. Nothing was more important than America at the moment. I huffed again, just as a light rap sounded on my door, and I sat up immediately, going back to the perfect posture I had mastered. It was instinct, really, by now, to instantly act perfectly in the presence of anyone. My tutors from young had already drilled that in, and so had my father. Only when I was with my mother or America could I finally act like a normal being; without having to act regal and proper. _America _- what would my world be like without her?

Remembering I had someone at the door, I called out, "Please come in."

My mother swept in hurriedly, her dress flowing out behind her. I relaxed, hunching over in my chair.

"Hi Mom," I glanced up, reaching for her outstretched hand.

"Hey darling, how's the situation like?" her eyes reflected as much concern as mine did, and I knew she truly cared – and maybe even loved- for America.

"Still no news," I sighed, putting my head down onto the table again. All this stress was giving me a terrible headache, and my body was still sore from the bullets.

"Well, honey, don't overexert yourself. You know I'll be keeping an eye on things." She gave me a reassuring pat on my good shoulder, kissing my hair.

Before I could reply, a louder knock echoed through the room, and without waiting for an answer, my father burst in. His cold eyes took in my hunched position and my mother's comforting touch, and anger flashed in his eyes.

"Amberly, how many times do I tell you _NOT_ to give him any care? The boy needs to learn to be cold and unwavering. All these tenderness won't do him any good." And with that he stomped over and grasped my mother's wrist roughly, dragging her away from me.

I opened my mouth to protest against his actions, but he slapped me on my still-recovering shoulder, and I let out a pained gasp.

"Clarkson, stop it, you're hurting him!" My mother dashed forward to stop him, but was shoved back again.

My father ignored her, "What are you? You're a piece of trash without a girl? That girl isn't even worth half the things you do! Just let her go, and stop wallowing in the mess you've created. There are other girls out there waiting for you; girls who are actually worthy of your concern! Tell me now, Maxon, have you even seen them at all in the past week? The press is getting restless, and you piece of junk just sits here. Ge-"

I stood up abruptly, causing my father to stumble backwards, "SHE IS NOT 'JUST A GIRL'! I LOVE HER! DO YOU _KNOW_ WHAT LOVE IS?"

With that I ran out, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

><p><em>America's POV<em>

My wrists were clammed down with metal grips, the coldness leeching into my body until I shivered uncontrollably. I had been shackled here for an hour already, judging by the wall clock above me, and Roy stood vigilantly behind me.

"What are we waiting for?" I tried to look at Roy. The same silence greeted me as when the many times I had asked a question.

A throbbing sounded in my head, rattling my skulls and hitting my temples. I felt sick to the gut, but even if I felt like vomiting, nothing would make reappearance since I hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday. Hunger pangs were a common issue now, one that I was very familiar with.

The sound of clicking stilettos met my ears, and I turned just enough to see Safara strutting down the laboratory, with her lab gear on. She had a satisfied smirk on her face, and I dreaded what was to come.

"Good afternoon there, _Princess!" _She spat the word out like it was poison, "Sorry you had to wait so long. I was just talking to an old friend of mine who seemed to know you too."

I thought to spit back an offending comment, but thought better of it. She had gotten my interest and she knows it. She beamed down at me with those teeth. I could swear her whole face was fake; probably made with those plastic procedures that Celeste had mentioned before.

"Who?" I mumbled tiredly, sick of her mind games.

"_Aspen, sweetie. You can come out now!" _she said in a singsong voice

_Aspen?! Aspen? What?_

I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around this, and I craned my neck to see if it was actually him. For all I know, this might just be another one of her games.

But there he was, shuffling down between the pipes in a completely different stark white: a lab coat. He held a clipboard between his hands, avoiding my gaze as I stared at him.

Sweet, loving, strong Aspen who I once loved was here causing me pain? Tears threatened to spill, but I held them in, determined not to show vulnerability in the presence of my enemies. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Aspen still hadn't dared to look at me, but I stared at him with such a strong intensity that he finally did, glancing briefly into my eyes. There was remorse, love, but something else; a kind of hardness that glinted in his usually soft green eyes. _What did they do to him? _

I must've showed some of my emotions, because Safara laughed her tinkling laughter and placed a hand on Aspen's back.

"What a reunion, huh? Two lovers finally together again. What will happen now?" she giggled again. "Too bad he's mine now," And placed a kiss on Aspen's cheek.

Fury boiled up in me; why would Aspen even be with her? I couldn't stand it anymore, and squeezed my eyes shut, willing for the nightmare to be over. I didn't love him anymore, not in that way, but I still couldn't believe he would get together with someone as revolting as her. She was the exact opposite of me, certainly more beautiful, but in an unnatural way, and her personality was pure hysterical.

"Well, well, let's get started shall we?" She placed a cold hand on my cheek.

_"Darling, could you get the head pads for me?" _she chirped in that sickeningly sweet voive again, as if talking to a puppy.

What caught my attention, though, were the words _head pads_. It sounded torturous, and I promised myself not to make any noise that would satisfy them if I was met with any pain.

Soon, little gel pads with wires extending out of them were stuck on my forehead and temples, connected to a computer on a counter.

"_Princess, are you ready?" _she taunted, and I could feel bile rise up the back of my throat with nothing to gag out.

My hands were clenched into fists as I await the upcoming horror, and my anger towards Aspen intensified until I was on the verge of tears. _Save me, you idiot, I'm America!_

"_Aspen, dear, flick the switch on." _A decisive click rang throughout the room, and my body was seized with terror, unable to move an inch.

**Bang, **a sharp but swift pain collided in my head, and I felt my head tip forward, unable to control it anymore. Then a second pain, this time, taking my whole being with it. Every muscle in my body felt like it was on fire, my head was incessantly harassed with sharp pains, each one stronger than before. I could tell my limbs were flailing wildly, hitting objects in the way, but I couldn't control my actions.

I knew I was screaming – so much for keeping silent- but my vocals didn't feel like my own. I felt like I was a separate being from my body, standing by the side filled with pain but unable to control my own actions.

A memory from my childhood flashed into my mind. May was standing on the tallest branch of an oak tree, concentrating on balancing while her tiny six-year-old self tittered with the wind. I looked up from below, calling out for her to be careful. She reached the very end of the branch, and when she was shuffling down back towards the start, a strong gust of air blew her off, and she landed with a sickening crunch on the sandy ground. Her head was twisted in a weird angle, and I screamed for help to no avail. Soon, she was gone, the wind slowly making her figure look fainter with every gust. I could see my tears making dents in the sand, but I didn't care. I needed to find May. Running into what I thought was my house, I found myself in the dining hall of the palace, seated beside Maxon with the King and Queen. There was no Selected, just the four of us enjoying dinner as a family. Just when I was marveling at how peaceful we seemed, a sharp gasp from Maxon made me whip my head towards him, just in time to see him blocking a bullet for me, right through the heart. The Queen screamed, holding Maxon, while the King ordered the guards to have me arrested. _No, no, no, no. _

I thrashed my limbs, not caring who or what I hit. This nightmare has to end.

Then, my eyes flew open, and I found myself back in the laboratory, sweat dripping down my forehead and drenching me. Safara was behind the computer, watching with smug interest while Roy was holding my legs down with a firm grip. Aspen was scribbling down notes behind Safara, looking a little startled.

Safara turned to me, her eyes gleaming with delight. "Interesting results we've got here! Thank you, America."

She stood up, leaving the room with Aspen trailing behind her, but paused to say, "Next time, shackle her legs too."

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm... That played out interestingly. We all knew Aspen was turning out to be a rebel, didn't we? <strong>


End file.
